


Candy Spun

by baeberiibungh



Series: Slumber [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Anxiety, Canonical Character Death, Child Stiles, Dreams, Kinda, M/M, Meds, Mental Health Issues, No Werewolves, Panic Attack, Sad, Sandman Derek, Secret Desires, add, dreamscape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5655679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeberiibungh/pseuds/baeberiibungh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is 8, Claudia died a few week ago and Derek is the sandman with a soft spot for the little boy who cries himself to sleep...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles was afraid of thunder and lightning, convinced that monsters would jump on him growling under the rumbling sound and the flashing darkness to reach him. Sure he was 8 now, a big boy, able to do his homework without much help from his daddy. But when it came to thunder, he couldn’t help burrowing into the bed. When it got too bad, he would slip off in the soft light of his safety Woody light and dig between his mommy and daddy. Daddy never woke up then, but his mommy did, who would then hold him tight and be the perfect haven against those loud noises and bright flashes.

Two weeks after Claudia went to the good place where best people get to go when they leave as per his daddy, there was a storm. There was a little rain, but lots of thunder and lightning, most probably raining in another part of the town. Stiles waited as long as he could, trying to convince himself that he was not scared, _he was not_. That is until a big thoom sounded outside his window and Stiles ran to his parent’s room. He didn’t check to see if John was awake, his tired mind forgetting for the moment that his mother was no longer in the bed. When John wrapped his hands around Stiles, he started a bit.

John clutched onto him, hard and tight, and he kept making these sounds like exaggerated sniffing and Stiles had never felt so sad. His back was cold even though his father held on to him, making him miss his mother in a way anew. How she would weave her hand through his soft hair and give kisses to his forehead even when half asleep, for her body had grown that accustomed to her child by her side. Stiles didn’t cry like his father that day, understanding later that was what John was doing. He also never went to his parent’s bed, no, his father’s bed ever again no matter how big the storm. 

After that, it was as if a transformation took place. Stiles had always been fidgety, moving, moving, moving even sitting or sleeping. But now it was as if now he didn’t even attempt being still. He was on new meds for his ADD, another one for his increasing anxiety and panic attacks and mood stabilisers for kids that John had to get as the last resort. He calmed down, but didn’t exactly improve. If not moving and anxious, he would be visibly depressed that even Scott couldn’t shake him out of at first. His sleep was disturbed as well, screaming every now and then and waking up with his heart thundering. 

That is, until he didn’t. He suddenly started sleeping better, got by on smaller doses of meds which was a happy event according to his therapist as she had informed John. He was not the same as before, but he was no longer spiralling into depression and recurrent panic attacks. When John had asked him how he was doing, Stiles had gone at length describing his friend Derek who came to visit in his dreams and make him feel not so crappy anymore. Sometimes, Stiles had confided, even mommy would be there, holding onto his friend’s hand and Stiles would then get a familiar hug from her.

John was unclear if Stiles was just dreaming away his sadness or had found a new method to cope with his loss. He was certainly better now; even John had to admit that. Deciding that Derek was possibly an imaginary friend, john made a lowkey note to check if there were some unsavoury pervert talking with Stiles. His subtle investigation gave no result, and given how Stiles described meeting Derek only in his dreams, John stopped being cautions and started to include him in their conversation, if for nothing else than the delightful description of Claudia Stiles would provide.

Stiles went on to go on with his life, and Derek never seemed to recede. He didn’t make any assertions that Derek was real or something, but his presence even in dreamscape helped Stiles cope a lot. Scott was in on most of the stuff regarding Derek that John wasn’t and he never judged his friend for still having an imaginary friend when he was 13. When he still continued, even at 16, John one day made him sit down and told him that while it was ok when he was younger, perhaps it was time to let him go. Stiles made some vague asserting noises and stopped talking about Derek either to John or Scott, or even Melissa. 

John had initially feared that Stiles might backslide after the conversation, but nothing untoward happened. His friend circle had expanded enough that he was starting to have a social life, and while he still whined about the greatness of one Lydia Martin, he had already dating a few people, coming out this father as a bi while making out with a boy from his class at his home. John had given the appropriate stares, made menacing threats about his ability to carry his firearm at all time – the perks of being the sheriff – and properly scared the boy enough for him to dash out in a hurry. 

Stiles had huffed at him, and had gotten a very firm hug from his father who uttered a few words in a choking voice how Stiles would always be his son and he will always support him before standing back awkwardly, both faces flushed. After that, Stiles dated a few people, but never too long or never too serious, feeling ashamed at the fact that the peace and rightness he felt with Derek in his dreams could never compare with the short flings he had at his school. He was almost 18 now and still saw Derek in his dreams, remembering enough to realise that he is always happy with Derek.

Derek, with weird clothes that Stiles never seemed to remember after, would show him different parts of the dreamscape, and he would feel lucid and real enough that some days Stiles would wonder if he was not visiting a real place somewhere else. Claudia did not feature in his dreams so much anymore, but he still got a hug from a pair of disjointed hands a few times a year. Dreams were never a substitute for life, but the dreams of Derek, they always felt alive and with a lot of life. And if sometime he ended up wishing he would end up there forever, well, it was just a dream right?


	2. Chapter 2

Derek first came upon Stiles when he was sitting on the lands of fie, where the grass that grew upon the hard earth cried ceaselessly for lost ones. Stiles looked so small, barely big enough to be three years old, face pressed to his knees, bended into his body and his arms around them as he cried and cried in tandem with the haunting greens of the place. A child such as he was not meant for places like that. In front of him stood a woman, who Derek recognised as a mirage thrown off by one of the innumerable nightmares in his realm, her back to Stiles and emanating indifference, coldness and hatred.

Derek had stepped in, and the wisp had disintegrated like a lazy line of smoke. He put his hands on Stiles and Stiles pulled his face away from the nook he had made of his limbs to look at Derek. His face had been a mess, tears and snot and a clear knowledge that told Derek that Stiles was not that young in his walking world. Derek pulled Stiles up from the ground and slowly started to direct him to the candy place, with flying clouds of laughing blue beings, fluffy and soft and perfect to travel on. Stiles hiccoughed and hung on to Derek’s hand even when he tried to pry his hand off stealthily.

Stiles was looking older as well, around 5 years or so, his clothes and hair changed, although he was still sucking on his thumb. He peered at Derek and mumbled his name, “m called Stiles. What’s you called?” 

Derek, for that was not his real name, his name was multitude, but something prickled just right and he intoned, “You can call me Derek.”

“I like your house,” Stiles informed Derek and Derek had to smile at that.

“Thank you,” he said, no longer attempting to leave Stiles at the dream space that kids usually love. 

“Do you know my mommy?” Stiles asks this time, biting into a blazingly purple cotton candy ball that doesn’t seem to diminish no matter how much Stiles pulls at it or even makes his hand all sticky and wet.

“I know of her,” Derek informs him this time solemnly. To Derek it feels just like a few seconds ago when Claudia had run pell-mell through the Octavio trees that always sung prettily if you gave them a story. Claudia always had stories, always, as good as a small child could make, but there would be fish dragons and princess knights and warm laps of mother to sleep on. Derek had seen her dreams, but did not saw her. And now here was Stiles, adamant at being near Derek for his walks through his realms and his questions.

The dreams after the first one where Derek caught his hand, Stiles would always manage to find out where Derek was and pull him along asking questions and getting answers to his many ones. Derek was actually astonished how easily Stiles found him, but taking it as something that his dreamscape had conjured up on his own, Derek relented.

He started making plans, jumping his time clutches so that he would be stationary and in a good place when Stiles came. Over the human years, Stiles ceased to be small as he was and instead started to show up in his human years. This was another astonishing thing for Derek. Children, while they did not stop dreaming, but some spaces became unapproachable, unseen even if placed before them, as suddenly filled as they are with curt realism of the world they finally start to realise they are living in. It never seemed to happen to Stiles though even though Derek had no doubt that Stiles was a very aware individual.

Stiles now brought stories of his own, to be shared with the dream king while both sat in soothing yellow tones of the sand particle, flying through the imagined space of a small kitten birthed three days ago. He recounted about Scott, his best friend and his recurrent asthma, that made Melissa so worried about him and Stiles always carried one full inhaler for him all the time. He was explained the genius of Lydia martin who was the smartest student in their ‘school’ and the most beautiful being on this side of the earth. He told Derek about the teensy little crush he had on Boyd, which escalated to kissing but then got derailed due to his gun totting ‘need to make a point’ father.

Stiles no longer asked about his mother now, the colourful shades that took her place over the years being recognised as such. The hugs were always familiar though so Stiles never regretted them. And neither did his father when he recounted his stays in dreamland with Derek. It took Stiles a bit to realise that John was not exceedingly happy at him having found a friend in, basically, what was his head. The day John actually made him sit down and tried to have an adult conversation about it, Stiles decided to never bring up Derek before anyone again. 

In fact to show how big and grown up he was, he started dating, which did contain that particular thing with Boyd that made Stiles always stammer near him, half in shame and half in sips of lust. It was a nice feeling, to glide, slip and slide along with another body and kisses, open mouthed, messy, close mouthed, jaw kisses, neck nibble, were always awesome. Sometimes, the people would lose definition under his touch and Stiles would feel, not see for he never opened his eyes then, Derek near him, that it was Derek who was kissing the skin below his ear and nuzzling into his nape and biting his lips lightly.

Stiles never brings that up with Derek though, and even though he went to the dreamscape pretty regularly, he never seemed to have that many unconscious dreams where he might be humping the marimo ball while the mermaid slapped him with her fin tail while shouting in a cute little voice, ‘99 motherfucking beer bottles on the wall’ (that was just one time). He knew who Derek was by then – the actual king of dreams, and it was nothing beyond a miracle that Stiles could keep talking to him and this entity, possibly as old as time, simply indulged him.

So, Stiles kissed people without opening his eyes and felt Derek’s breathe on his face. Derek watched on Stiles weave his dreams around him and lay candy spun kisses on the soft folds of Stiles' eyelids when he slept and neither hoped for more, nor wanted less, but secretly held dreams of being together someplace somewhere sometime with eyes open hands held and promises of love loud and clear.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this marks 200,000 words here for me, and yes I know, that is not that much or even that impressive, but fuck, it was never envisioned. It is awesome writing for you guys, seriously so thanks for all those kudos and comments, thanks. 
> 
> This one is unbetaed. Kudos and comments please.


End file.
